


Holy Water

by prettyvillain



Series: Kinktober 2020 Requests [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Breeding, Church Sex, Creampie, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Praise Kink, References to lots of Christianity type bullshit, Religion Kink, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvillain/pseuds/prettyvillain
Summary: “I am theWarrior of Darkness.  I am your salvation, your chance to roam wherever your heart wishes to take you.”AU in which G'raha Tia is a lonely priest devoted to the Church of Hydaelyn until a beautiful demon wanders in late one night and tempts him away from the teachings of the Mother.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Kinktober 2020 Requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952359
Kudos: 40





	Holy Water

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much plot to this AU, I tried to keep it pretty basic but I did get a bit carried away... 
> 
> The Miqo'te featured is nameless currently, going only by the title of the Warrior of Darkness.

Ever the pious creature, G’raha Tia is often the very last to leave the chapel at the end of the day. There’s enough snow gathering along the painted glass windows outside, that it looks much darker than it really is for a mid-October night, but inside the church the fire keeps that chilliness at bay. 

There’s not much to return home to; a warm mug of tea and a book by candlelight perhaps but little else calls the priest back to his small cottage. A rather lonely night, but that’s hardly anything new. He tells himself that he wants for very little more than the warm embrace of Hydaelyn herself, a Goddess fair and comforting enough.

He’s bent over one of the pews, dusting a layer of dirt from the dark wood of the seat, when the church is swept with a moment of chill. A cool blast of wind, despite the sealed chapel doors, whistles through and his tail twitches in surprise. “Good evening....” He speaks to the empty room, expecting someone to appear, perhaps through a side door or backroom when he’d not paid full attention. 

Not a soul replies. 

He imagines that it’s merely his mind playing tricks on a lonely old fool, but then something brushes against his ears. He goes to turn, but finds that a pressure leans instead against his spine, keeping him pinned. He’s not crushed by the weight exactly, but it feels much like _something_ is laying against him there, a body he cannot discern. 

“What—” he begins to say, but he can hardly believe his eyes when a finger, _yes_ a flesh and blood finger, comes to rest against his lips. He obeys and falls silent. Is this… an _angel_? What reason could any angel have to come here? The mind races as he lingers on what on Earth will transpire next…

“Shh now…” **A voice!** Soft and musical, dancing with life. Surely he could never imagine a voice this sweet, it must be real. A woman’s whisper against one of his pointed ears, no less, which causes him to shudder weakly. “This is a house of worship, is it not?” The voice asks, suddenly sounding much more solid than airy. 

G’raha feels that weight behind him as more of a person’s presence than merely just unknown pressure, the figure there feeling more and more real as he nods and swallows for air. It’s a rather curious thing, after all, to begin answering the questions of apparitions. There were formalities, surely for such things?

“Y-Yes, this is a church devoted to the teachings of the _Mother_ and a place to give thanks for the love she has bestowed upon our land.” The answer is one he has given a thousand times before, but in this moment he is trembling. Not usually a meek man by any stretch of the imagination, but here in the dim glow of candlelight he is shivering in the presence of something celestial. 

The stranger moves, that weight lifting from the priest’s back before she takes a seat in the nearby pew. “Then I’ve come to the right place after all. Priest, your work here is only just beginning…”

Slowly G’raha rises and braces himself to face her. He swallows. What awaits him when he turns is not anything like what he had expected. 

Some part of him had imagined an portrait of the Goddess herself, her visage as per the many paintings and depictions found through the holy text. His tail remains perky, lifting at the very tip as his gaze travels across the form of the woman, no… creature before him. 

She looked similar to a Miqo'te woman, with pointed ears atop her head much like his own and a tail flitting about behind her as well, alas the similarities end there. As well as her ears, atop her tumbling crimson hair sits two large curled horns the shade of the night sky from beyond the window. From her back is sprouted two wings, tucked neatly behind but visible even from where she sits. And within her smile, two large fangs glinting above her painted lips. 

“ _ **D-demon…**_ ” The word falls freely and _Goddess_ he wishes it hadn’t. A palm latches itself to his lips as if he could take it back somehow, that perhaps he could undo what he had spoken and the demon would simply be no more. However, the demon simply giggled. 

“That’s right!” She replies, rising back to her feet to take both of his hands in hers. As she does, he catches a glimpse of the claw-like nails she possesses and, strangely enough, some part of his stomach begins to flip within him. “Not what you expected?”

Not at all, but as she rubs his hands gently with her fingers, he isn’t at all afraid. In fact, the initial confusion threw him off far more than her presence as a demonic entity. But why… Surely that was all wrong, surely he ought to be turning her from this holy ground?

“Why are you... _ **how**_ are you…” He tries to speak but his words are plucked from his breath as lips press against his own. _His first kiss._ It isn’t at all cruel and damned, as one might expect a kiss from a demon to be. No, it’s slow but powerful, _addictive_ in a manner he cannot possibly explain. 

She parts his lips with her tongue and _Goddess forgive him_ but he is crumbling with every movement. She tastes of smoke, not enough to put him off attempting to mimic her actions, but of warmth and a delicious fire he dares to run his hands through. Passion entwining with something unspeakable—

But then she’s pulling away, still clutching his hands. Her smirk has only grown in size as her gaze flickers hungrily across him. He feels much like a rabbit within the sight of a starved fox. 

“Who...who are you?”

But G’raha feels as if he knows the answer already. 

That she is the lingering concept of some forbidden darkness, a temptation he has saved only for dreams. Something powerful but equally as dangerous. He cannot look directly at her for long for the fear that the image of her face alone may burn something permanent into his soul. Will his Goddess forgive him for even just the kiss stolen from him only a few moments prior?

“I am the _**Warrior of Darkness**_.” She speaks his fear to life and he sighs in defeat. “Your devotion to your Mother is endearing, alas your prayer is better spent elsewhere… For too long have you denied yourself freedom. I am your salvation, your chance to roam wherever your heart wishes to take you.”

What she promises is not pain or loneliness. Not a life spent dusting sad pews in the evening by his lonesome. It is an eternity cherished and adored, with she at his side. For what reason he specifically has been chosen, he is not entirely sure, but as she extends her clawed hand to him, he is dazed with wonder. 

“ _Freedom…_ ” He repeats. Again. Again and again. Muttered like a mantra. How alluring the offer is, something which she surely knows for her grip moves from his palms to his forearms, to his shoulders, before they embrace tight. Bodies pressed together. 

He can feel no heartbeat, only the comforting warmth of the demon’s breasts against his chest. For a moment he wonders if the same can be said for her, if she can feel how erratic that organ thumps beneath his clergy garments. 

“ _Yes_ , through offerings and worship, such freedom can be yours.” There’s something of a boom behind her voice, mimicking that of angels from the holy texts and how their voices are said to travel across worlds to reach their intended hearts. Concern may have prickled against his skin beforehand, but he feels only comfort in her presence as if her words wash over him with warmth.

The sound of tearing cloth sounds behind his head but no alarm is raised, feeling the fabric of his holy clothing rip along his spine. The demon’s claws groove deep into the cotton and silk, ripping him free of his confines until the fabric falls away, peeling from him. She tugs it from his shoulders as if helping him emerge from a cocoon. 

“How do I…” he begins to ask, wondering how he is meant to obtain such freedom. She says _worship_ but, Goddess be blessed, is he truly meant to cast it all aside? The duality of this new faith lingers within the mind but her touch against his bare skin tempts him to her side, tempts him away from light and into the selfish darkness. He feels sharp claws against his spine, tracing circles and crosses there, as well as her warm breath against his neck, teasing to bite his flesh. Breathing is a struggle as the foggy heat chokes him. He has never felt such passion. 

“ _Your knees_.” She answers, one of her pointed fangs gliding over his sensitive skin but not yet pricking it. “Worship me as if I am none other than your prophet.” She commands it and he willingly falls out of her arms. His hands meet with the floor and his ears quiver doward in a humble display of respect. Against the cool tile, his warm hands find comfort there, alas his head does still spin.

“O’ Warrior of Darkness…” he mumbles to her feet, her heels garbed in gold and black decorations. To have been denied such primal instincts as these, his cheeks are burning crimson to match the same shade as his hair out of sheer embarrassment. To lust for the flesh, he almost cannot bear the weight of these sudden sins. But her form, _her words_ , are so divine that his entire body yearns for her presence evermore. Can it truly be such a sin when it feels oh so wonderful to want so desperately? 

The demon remains amused and threading her fingers through his array of red flicks and curls before brushing gently against his ears. “Yes, G’raha?” How she knows his name, or knows that such fiddling with his hair and ears can elicit such small excitement from within him, he does not know. “What do you crave?” 

“Y-you…” he answers boldly, looking up to her with pleading eyes. “Your...freedom, your beauty. Your… “ _Everything_. He wants it all, every bit of it. From this angle, her figure rises above him and, Goddess be damned, every sinful thing he has denied himself suddenly lunges to thought from the back of his mind. To take her, have her in his arms, to feel her naked breast against his own… “ **Please**... “

She understands entirely. From above him, she begins to pull away the thin fabric of her already rather small gown; her chest exposed and rolling from the confines of her bustier and the slender figure of her hips revealing itself in all of its curves and hills. How her tumbling head of flame-like curls sit against the milky white of her breasts, his breath is stolen merely gazing up at her. 

“You are to give me your everything; body _and_ soul. You must offer up it all to the Warrior of Darkness, now that you belong in her heart.” As she speaks she guides him back to his feet before reuniting their lips in a kiss. This one is far more passionate, as tongues meet and he dares to cling to her, his hands running across the bare skin of her back. 

More of his own clothing falls away and their bodies press desperately together, nakedness entwined, before she guides him down to a pew and takes her seat within his lap. Her lingerie, stockings of midnight blue accented with silver, cause him to blush further, but she guides his hand between her legs to feel the wetness of the cloth. 

“For you, my love.” she tells him, smiling as he gasps at the previously forbidden touches. Her arousal feels inviting and so very wet against his fingertips, causing his mind to race into oblivion of all the details he had never been allowed to think on before. All of that sin he was previously denied. He wants to taste her, touch her, press himself against her— _inside of her._

“Are we going to…” asking feels impossible, but sure enough she begins pulling away his underclothes from her position before tugging aside her own. 

“Of course, you’re going to worship me after all. And I need you like this, G’raha… _I want you_ …” Her eyes are half-lidded as she studies his expression, noting the flustered manner and that he cannot meet her gaze for long. How his cheeks seem to burn darker by the second. But he craves her so, craves to be one with this demon of beauty. 

“O’ Darkness…” he prays against her lips when they kiss once more, the demon stroking his untouched cock causing him to jump with surprise. Not once has he felt a woman’s touch against him in this way, let alone imagined that a demon might curl her delicate hand around him and squeeze so deliciously. 

She moves slow at first, pumping him with a steady rhythm but that alone is enough to have him gasping and moaning. “ _Oh… oh… oh_ …” he’s falling apart already and he’s yet to even _taste_ the damned forbidden fruit. 

With every heavy breath his chest rises and falls dramatically, squashed against the pressure of the demon’s breasts as he inhales hungrily for air. 

Melted aside are any fears of the aftermath, of what may become of him and his faith once he has roamed where no holy man should ever roam. Instead, he yearns for her with parted lips and the occasional low groan of fevered wanting. 

In his mind he recites prayers and thanks, no longer to the Mother of Light but instead Darkness and her splendour, her power. That she might wrap him up within it and swallow him whole. 

“I’m...I’m—” unused to how to describe the feeling, he simply cums without saying it exactly; release dribbling from his sensitive cock and along the delicate art of her nails. But she merely grins in response, the demon not yet satisfied but inching closer to her goal. 

“Very good…” she purrs, the Warrior of Darkness stroking him until he can give little more. But she doesn’t plan on finishing there. Her lips trace kisses along his burning jaw and neck, savouring the way he gulps beneath her touch as if swallowing his final breaths. “But you have more to give, priest. _So much more_ …” She leans up to brush the words against his ear and this time when she speaks, he whines weakly against her.

“True worship comes from within, from you offering yourself to me and filling me with your prayer. You know what you must do, what you **must** give me. Wholly and completely, filling me with all that you can—” The words are spoken so low but they seem to deafen him with their vulgar intent, that sultry manner she speaks of so foreign to his virgin ears. Alas, he is already sinking into her haze of lust further, willing to obey just as she wishes. 

“ _Y-yes…_ I will… please, let me…” He’s already growing hard again, his cock warming to her words and she is quick about reacting to it. 

She grasps him gently once more and lowers herself upon him, pulling aside her pretty lingerie further to press him deep inside of her. That sensation, so new and so craved, it nearly _winds_ him entirely. Her tightness and how it clutches at him already, how this unholy but somehow celestial feeling overwhelms him completely. 

“ _Aah…_ just like this, hm?” She asks, beginning to move in his lap as she rises and falls, as she lifts up her hips to bring them down again. Sliding herself up and down his cock as his hands scramble to find purchase on her figure. She craves more than his devotion, so much more than simply a new worshipper, but there’s no denying that such a devout follower enthralled to her cause gets her all the more excited.

G’raha struggles to keep up, not sure whether he should buck his hips to meet her thrusts or simply let her move along him as she already does. He wants to touch her and he dares to brush his palms over her breasts as they sway, rubbing her nipples between his trembling fingers.

“I want your release, G’raha… _mhm…_ want you to fill me completely with love and devotion…” she urges him as her pussy clenches tight around him, begging him to cum again but this time thick and plentiful within her. Filling her with all he can, until there’s nothing left to offer her. To feel such a claim, as if to be bred here and now in the holy space of the chapel. “Not a drop must be wasted, I need it deep inside of me.” 

He grits his teeth, mind still racing with prayers, as he gives her what she asks. He cums without warning, unable to hold back at all, as he cums inside of her tight hole and breeds her as she commands. She rides him through it, her pussy gripping him and squeezing him of his release until it’s dribbling out of her with every downward thrust. “Just like that, _fuck—_ ” she moans as her orgasm spasms through her, squealing with delight as it rolls through her hips. 

The demon feels full of holy pleasure, touched by a new offering of virginial and devout offerings. _Oh_ , she feels divine. As her movements still, G’raha shakes beneath her in the throes of his post-pleasure swaying; mouth agape and eyes threatening to roll into the back of his skull. His ears twitch slightly as he attempts to relax. 

“You did so well, G’raha, glad am I to have granted you such blessings.” The demon smiles as she presses kisses to his cheeks. 

“Thank you… thank you... “ Were he not caught between her straddling hips he would throw himself to her feet once more and offer as much praise he could muster. Freedom indeed has come to him, he feels it now. Swelling throughout his body as it pulsates madly within. 

“My Goddess, to you my life is owed. I surely cannot... _ **will not**_ find myself at Hydaelyn’s closed door again. But… tell me…” he tails off, glancing away from her as she draws from his lap and stands before him nude and wondrous. “For whom… do you serve? You _are_ a demon no doubt, but is there some higher power…?” 

The demon laughs. Her hair bounces as she does so and her clawed fingers coming to her lips as if to daintily mask her fanged grin. “It is true, your body and soul not only belong to me now, they also belong to _Him_.” Suddenly she drops to her knees, prying apart his legs as she snakes herself between them. Her fingers reach for his cock once more and he wonders if he truly has anything left to give, until her touch sends shivers along his spine.

“He… _**Zodiark…**_ ” he seems to know the name somehow before she speaks it, before he can wrap his mind around the corruption taking place. Seduced to the path of the devil himself, through the starry-eyed messenger clad in thin lingerie and curled ram horns. But, in truth, he no longer cares. Addicted is he for the touch of the _devil_ now, for her to commit blasphemous sins in this former house of the Goddess, if only so that he may feel and fill her again. 

And make no mistake, that is exactly what is fated to occur from that moment onward until his very last final breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and of course thank you for the prompt!
> 
> Check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/_prettyvillain) for more information about my requests for Kinktober! 
> 
> Have a wonderful day, reader!


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